


Splinter/Shatter

by Khemi



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Bondage, Death, Dom/sub, Knifeplay, M/M, Masochism, Masturbation, Painplay, Porn With Plot, Resurrection, Sadism, Scarification, Trans John Egbert, Violence, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 03:20:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7342570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khemi/pseuds/Khemi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes a lot for Dirk to escape his own mind, and his escalating needs are starting to get out of hand. The first time John kills him, it's accidental, angry, and if they'd been better people that might have been where it ended.</p>
<p>They aren't better people. If Dirk can admit to himself that he's willing to let someone else into his depraved escapism, they might be the only ones whose particular desires can finally bring each other satisfaction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Splinter/Shatter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [epochryphal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/epochryphal/gifts).



> So this was an adventure and I learned a lot about my own interests this day. God bless you for requesting the OTP dear prompter........

John was soft like a breeze and harsh like a hurricane, gentle when he wanted to be but devastating without warning, twin eyes of the storm impassive and calm as they watched his furies tear the world apart. It was a spectacle to see him snap. The first time Dirk hadn’t expected it, pushing too far in a strife meant just to let off steam that ended instead with him waking from his resurrection with memories of wind suffocating him from within and pulling him into pieces, and the visions had been impossible to shake.

John was understandably surprised the next time Dirk appeared, sword in hand and a new light in his eyes, demanding another fight and carefully hitting all the same buttons when John let him have it.

This time the air in his lungs had turned to a vicious cyclone, and as it tore everything inside him into a bloody mess than ran red from his parted lips, Dirk had a few sweet moments of agony burning him up and setting his careful plans ablaze in his mind before the cold shock set in and he surrendered to the dreamless lure of death.

“One day you’re not going to wake up,” John told him in too jovial a voice when he came to and found the other boy waiting in the grass beside him. John was splitting daisies to thread them through themselves, and Dirk watched the pattern repeat mechanically until it snapped, John’s hands growing tight and ripping the ribbon of delicate flowers to shreds. “One day the universe is going to decide you deserve it. You know that, right?”

“I look forward to it,” Dirk had tried to say, but he only managed most of _forward_ before John’s hand slammed into his cheek and the sting left the words on his tongue in disarray.

“If you want to do this- and you _do_ , jeez, you came _straight back_ , you’re not even trying to hide it- we do it my way, okay?” John pat the place he’d smacked, running his slender fingers around the angry red shape already flushing into sight. “And no one else gets to know you get your weird kicks off me, ever!”

“What if I’m done with this? Maybe I just needed my double death quota filled, gotta keep my life refreshed and rainbow-drenched.”

John hummed, curling his fingers under Dirk’s chin and examining his face. This close, Dirk found it was easier to see where the broad smile on his face stopped, freezing before it could unthaw his eyes.

“Then you won’t come back, right?” John’s cold gaze locked on Dirk’s, and then it was warm again, alive, his hand slipping away. “But _when_ you do, it’s my terms or nothing.”

“ _If-_ ” Dirk corrected, curtly.

He woke up again hours later, alone, shuddering with the aftershocks of the air compressing him to diamond.

-o-

Dirk resisted longer than he’d expected.

At first it had been simple: he knew returning to John was illogical, dangerous. There was a chance of lasting death, the _promise_ of more pain than he’d ever suffered anywhere but at John’s hands, and the bluntly given rule than John would be entirely in control. No part of it made any sense to his remaining instincts of self-preservation. No part of it made any sense to _any_ of him, so he could lock it away and leave the memories behind him, and not give John the satisfaction of ever coming back.

He slipped up when he was alone, biting hard on a cloth that tasted of the blood he’d mopped up with it, trying to push himself over a less deadly edge for the moment of peace that would follow. The words cut across his thighs stung as his hand caught them, bitter repetitions of dark thoughts that tasted delicious when they rolled off his red-stained tongue; he caught his nails in _worthless_ and tore it through to _fraud_ , hissing at the fresh spike of pain that made his hips jolt into his messy palm and drove him a little closer to nothingness.

Pain was an off-key note in the middle of a perfectly planned symphony, the blare of it making the orchestra hitch in motion for just a moment, for one single beat- But it was enough. His thoughts would scatter, and if it hurt _enough_ they crawled back slowly and left Dirk with a few precious instants of silence, of _peace_ , of a pleasure that curled like a chain around his throat and promised to drag him deeper still. Yet his thoughts would always return before he could drop into the pit that opened alluringly before him; so next time the blows were harder, the cuts went deeper. Next time the moment extended, but never enough, never _enough._

Except-

His hand stuttered and he felt his teeth bruising his tongue as he stifled the cry that begged to leave him, his mind tumbling before he could catch it, back into memories of the moments John had broken his mind as easily as his body, the daze after he revived in which there was nothing left of him, and all he knew was the silence he fought so hard to find.

Blood on his lips and John’s handprint on his cheek, his body convulsing as it was destroyed without leaving a mark, his awareness blinking out as the air pressed in so fast and heated Dirk must have blazed like the sun- And John, John, smiling with cold eyes, _we do it my way_ and wind like knives as it cut him into ribbons and left nothing between his ears but _peace-_

Dirk’s hand was shaking as he spilled across his fingers, and he couldn’t bit hard enough to muffle John’s name entirely, or hide the pleading tone that shaped the sound.

His mind was warmth and satisfaction without words, a clock unwound to near stillness as Dirk took a long breath and let it out, counting without numbers, feeling without thought. Everything was a flow and he was part of it, drifting on currents that led him without purpose closer and deeper and down.

Shame returned first; it was a burst dam, and no sooner had he fought to hold it back than the torrent of complex analysis swept in and caged him between considerations and calculations. _Why was that easier? Why did I think of what he did? Why- why- why-?_

The voices were incessant and endless, questions and answers and all that they might come together to mean, and Dirk threw a furious punch at the wall with enough force to shatter his knuckles and give him a fraction of peace before he headed for the shower, lips pursed in deep contemplation that wouldn’t let him escape. It spread from the first memories, now that his mind was running free. Branched out into everything _John,_ and searched for the first point that John had come to mean something more than a passing glance and a laugh across a room.

It had started before the first fight. _That_ had escalated because Dirk was trying to get even after John’s breeze threw his blueprints into disarray and left his workshop entirely rearranged- Which had, in turn, been revenge for Dirk trying to coerce John into providing him with information on Jake’s current state of mind, an attempt that ended with a barely dodged hammer-blow and a reminder that trying to use people never did Dirk any favours. And those were just the most recent times that felt more _personal_ , outside of the constant back-talk and the pranks of increasing intensity. The only times Dirk’s mind stuttered outside of his attempts to disassemble himself were when John caught him by surprise in a way no one else had managed. From a laughed _no_ to a bucket of ice water, from an electrified wrench to a firm _stop, Dirk, this isn’t funny anymore_ \- John had given Dirk glimpses of peace long before the finality of death.

Did John _know_ that? No… No, Dirk kept it buried, no matter what John had said about not being subtle. John might know some things, might have seen them when Dirk couldn’t help himself, but he couldn’t know everything, couldn’t know how far Dirk would fall if barely pushed.

He _couldn’t._

Could he?

Dirk drenched himself under water that burned, rubbing his hands over his face and shuddering as the heat set his cuts back alight. Whatever John thought of him, the offer he’d made wasn’t meant as a kindness, that much Dirk knew. There was something worse, crawling underneath the words, something as unsettling as it was exciting; but there was something worse in Dirk’s thoughts as they finally caved in to the idea of returning to John just like he’d been told he would. _We do this my way._ John’s way was agony, delicious and terrible, taking him apart and waiting for him to put himself back together. John’s way was a laugh like nothing had happened, a smile on his face when Dirk’s head reeled from the force of a slap.

John’s way was destroying him just like he’d always wanted, then reminding him brightly that he couldn’t cheat fate forever.

Dirk pushed the water back through his hair as his heart pounded in his ears, a muddled desire mixing with a more base excitement, the thrill of danger sparking from nerve to nerve and filling him up with promise. If John pushed, he would fall- he _would_ , finally, he could feel it in each rapid flutter of his chest. John could give him what he wanted, _needed-_ and maybe somewhere beneath that cheery smile there was just as depraved a need to be satisfied in return.

He was going to go back, wasn’t he? But John had known that from the start.

Dirk turned his head towards the unending rain and let his mouth overflow, lungs burning with the willing flood until his body could take no more.

-o-

The smile that lit John’s face when he found Dirk waiting for him after a family dinner was so disarmingly earnest anyone who happened to catch sight of them would have made far too pleasant an assumption about their murmured conversation. John leaned casually against the wall and Dirk did his best to look just as nonchalant, slipping his hands into his jeans and glancing around to check they were alone before he cleared his throat.

“So how does this go down?” He asked, trying to sound more calm than his racing heart wanted to allow. “We go find a field somewhere and you snap my neck until I get tired of it?”

“Boring.” John yawned, rolling his eyes. “There’s _way_ more to do than just _kill_ you, come on. Get creative, Dirk! Or rather, don’t. Let _me_ get creative!”

“Not the most encouraging shit you could’ve said.”

“I don’t see you walking away.”

Dirk set his jaw, folding his arms after a long moment of considering doing just that, turning and leaving and forgetting all about this. Instead, he stayed right where he was, heat dusting his cheeks.

“Good.” John grinned lazily, casting a look around himself before he lifted his fingers and touched Dirk’s chin again, making Dirk shiver with the memory of a slap. “It isn’t just death, right? You like getting _hurt_ , I’ve seen the expressions you make when you’re going at it with Dave! Well that works out great.”

“You like fucking people up, John?” Dirk couldn’t resist the jab, even as his head tipped with the gentlest of suggestive nudges. “Anyone allowed to know _you_ get your sick kicks off _me?_ ”

“Leave being funny to the experts, or you might do yourself some damage.” John’s hand dropped away, the threat in his words feeling disappointingly distant. “There’s a bunker, near the field you like to get wrecked in. If you can’t find it straight away, don’t worry! I’m sure the breeze will make sure you end up right where you need to be.”

Dirk wet his lips slowly, voice dropping an octave as it grew softer. “So we’re really doing this?”

“I’m not going to make you go. If you have second thoughts, stay home and we don’t have to bring this up every again.”

“And if I find your weird dungeon?”

“Then I’m going to hurt you, very, _very_ badly, in all the ways I can think of, and you’re probably going to die.” John blinked, eyes wide with wonder that didn’t fit his low promise at all. “I want to find out what it takes to break you, over and over, until the only way to put you back together is to kill you.”

Dirk swallowed.

“Way to sugarcoat that, Egbert.”

“If you want something sugarcoated, you’re in the wrong place! Try Dad, he loves coating things in all the sugar he can find.” The strange expression had passed, and John grinned again, dropping both hands to clasp them behind his back. “I prefer my treats _without_ any frosting.”

“Is that an innuendo or-?”

“I honestly have no idea.” John made a face at himself, then shrugged. “But whatever! I’ll see you later, right?”

Dirk could easily back out, and standing there with John looking at him expectantly he wondered if that would be better. If he did slip, if he _did_ fall, how could he be sure he could climb back out again? How could he be sure he’d _want_ to?

But if it gave him peace, even just for a moment, if it gave him the escape he’d craved far too long- was it _worth_ that risk?

“Yeah.” Dirk lifted his head in a slight nod. “I’ll be there.”

Like that, the deal was done. John was humming a song that sounded like victory as he turned and strolled away.

-o-

It was easy to find the bunker once Dirk took John’s advice and followed the breeze, letting the wind urge him on over the sun-set bronzed grass until he found the stairs down into an entrance between the roots of a large tree. He cautiously descended the metal steps, dust swirling around his feet as little gusts followed him down, until the earth came together into a closed tunnel above him and he had to run his hands along the walls to guide himself the last distance up to a metal door set in the shadows.

“Why the fuck is this even _here?_ ” He murmured, fingers slipping over the bolts to try to find a handle. The breeze rushed up around him, and he was less surprised than he should’ve been when it solidified into an arm alongside his that guided his touch downwards, John’s weight leaning against his side in the small space.

“Jade put it here so she could study the local fauna without being noticed, but she abandoned it a while ago. I asked if I could have it to hang out it in and she said sure!”

“I doubt you’re using it how she intended.”

“I don’t know, Dirk. Take it from someone who lived with her for three years- Jade might surprise you!”

“Wow. _There’s_ a conversation I don’t want to have.”

“Then why don’t we have a better one?” John’s fingers forced Dirk’s to close around the handle, and the door groaned open, light flooding out and showing the prepared space beyond. It was mostly just open space, but there was a hook in the ceiling and heavy iron rings in the floor, a few workbenches that might’ve once held Jade’s equipment now covered with what Dirk decided to call John’s _tools._

“All this work to beat me up? I’m flattered.” Dirk stepped in, glancing around with far less certainty than he spoke with. He was already considering exits, possible ways to flee, how to fight in the space and all the other things his brain couldn’t leave _alone,_ all of it blurring into white noise that left his fingers curling into tight fists. “You shouldn’t have.”

“You think you’re the first person who’s been down here?” John laughed, swirling over to one of the tables and running his fingers lightly over several chains. “That’s cute.”

Dirk blinked at him. “...Who else?”

“Hah. _No one_ gets to know who gets their kicks with me.” John made his choice and lifted linked cuffs, the thick metal visibly uncomfortable. “I won’t pretend I’m not excited it’s _you_ this time!”

“You been hoping I’d come join you in the murder dungeon?”

“You’re _fun_ , Dirk! I keep pushing to find your limits and it’s like you don’t have any, and you’re just as happy to get pranked as you are getting turned into a smoothie.” He stretched the chain between his hands, pulling it taut and advancing slowly, Dirk’s legs feeling less steady the closer John came to him. “It takes a lot to keep up with me, and I think you’re the only person who could! I’d _love_ to be the one who finally figures out what it takes to make you shatter.”

“Do I get a safeword?” Dirk lifted his arms without taking his eyes away from the cuff, and John laughed, slipping the metal over his hands and starting to twist the metal tight together around his wrists.

“A _word_ might not work out so well if I stitch your mouth shut.” John wrapped the chain once around his own fingers and started to pull, dragging Dirk towards the hook with a spring in his step. “Put on a light show and I’ll stop, okay? Pink lightning is a pretty distinct way to tap out.”

“For a second I thought you were gonna say I didn’t get a way out at all.”

John snorted, dragging the hook down to dig it into the cuffs before he kicked a lever on the ground and Dirk was jerked upwards, feet scrambling for a moment before he was off the ground. His fingers twitched as the cuffs bit into his wrists, shoulders already complaining at the rough movement and an ache setting in that would bloom into raw agony if he was left too long.

His breath hitched at the thought.

“I’m not a _monster,_ Dirk,” John chided, drifting to the nearest workbench and lifting a knife from it that caught the light down its wicked sharpness. “I just like to _act_ like one.”

Then John was coming towards him, gaze as dangerous as the blade, and Dirk braced for a storm he had no hope of keeping controlled.

-o-

“I said _keep count_ so I don’t _have to._ ”

Dirk jerked with the blow across his back, the knots in the leather striking a firecracker of pain up his spine as he gasped around the bar in his mouth and felt blood flick from his lips. He’d only been granted the privilege of the gag when his tongue was nearly bitten through, and talking was still a struggle even when John gave him time to collect his thoughts.

John was very good at _not_ giving him that time, however. John seemed to know when he was on the verge of coherence and just how to tear it out of his grip again.

Dirk mumbled against the gag, trying to remember the number, trying to remember _anything,_ but John struck before he could piece it together and Dirk felt the leather run deep and slick into the angry cuts already scattered over his skin, red raw and still pleading for more. He’d taken too long and he knew it; John kept the count for him, flicking out the butterfly knife he’d told Dirk was just for him- _it’s never been in anyone else I promise-_ and using it to add to the tally already carved into Dirk’s thigh.

“Jeez, Dirk! I thought you were smart, but here you are failing basic math!” John span the knife between his fingers before he grasped it tight and slammed it into Dirk’s shoulder, cooing softly at the scream that left Dirk’s body quaking, blood collecting on his bruised lips and starting to run down his chin. “Stay with me, okay? I didn’t say you could go yet.”

John grasped his cheeks roughly and examined his eyes, then dropped his face just to slap him hard, the fresh bite returning enough awareness that Dirk managed to focus on the face below him. That earned a pleased smile, and John’s next touch was soft, gently caressing his jaw.

“There we go. I’m not done yet, you don’t get to let go until I decide I’m ready.” John kicked the lever and Dirk dropped, chain pooling over his shoulders and painfully catching on the knife as he fell heavily to his knees and slumped forward, arms shaking with the effort of keeping himself up. “You’re doing great, Dirk. Just a little more, okay?”

Dirk turned his face upwards, blinking tears out of his eyes as John’s fingers curled into his sweat-slicked hair and forced his to bare his throat entirely. Thinking was near impossible, too much flooding his nerves from every direction and John’s presence demanding a focus that stole the last of his mind away. What it left behind was the void he’d long desired; a numb bliss that swamped everything else and left him smiling around the gag despite everything, a drunken joy pumping with each heavy beat of his strained heart.

John’s sneaker pressed against the strained fabric of Dirk’s pants, the grip in Dirk’s hair tightening when his hips canted up into the weight.

“You’re a mess.” The praise from a moment before was gone, mocking delight winding through John’s words in its place. “I knew you were desperate, but wow! Do you want me to write more words in your skin to remind you how pathetic you are? It seems a waste that all your pretty scars are going to be washed away when I’m done… Maybe next time I’ll leave you alive long enough to appreciate them. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Words failed him, but Dirk’s body pulsed a louder reply that John crushed more firmly under his heel. With a fond smile John reached down and tore the blade out of Dirk’s shoulder, stroking the tip of it down Dirk’s cheek instead and leaving warm blood trailing down his unbroken skin. The last shudders of pain and shock faded after a moment, and Dirk turned towards the threat stroking softly along the shape of his jaw, keeping his eyes fixed on John.

“What’s it going to take to get you to behave?” John tutted, jerking Dirk’s head back by his hair and slipping the tip of the knife down his throat. “Most people take _way_ less before they stop acting up! But you’ve just _got_ to have your way, haven’t you? Man, Dirk! It’s a good thing I _like_ hurting you.”

Wind smashed into the side of Dirk’s head in the same moment the knife was pulled back, and he cracked into the concrete floor, agony tearing across his shoulder and his head spinning from the impact. He spat a few more mouthfuls of blood out around the bar, struggling to lift himself as John kicked him onto his back and then crouched over him, grasping the hem of his pants and dragging them down.

“What if I cut this off?” John’s fingers were unfairly gentle as they wrapped around his dick, and Dirk whimpered as John stroked him, the pleasure and pain mixing and making it blissfully difficult to process the words. “I wonder what it’d take to make us match.”

He could feel the knife curving between his legs, trailing a hazardous path that might’ve been a promise.

“Do you want to find out?” John hummed. “Or is that too _easy_? What if I find out how much of you I can take one piece at a time without killing you? If you like dying so much, maybe I should see how long I can keep you _alive_.”

Dirk wanted that. He wanted all of it, everything, wanted John to fill him with sensations he’d never dreamed of feeling, new levels of nothing washing in on the heels of horror. He wanted John to hollow him out and leave empty ecstasy behind, and his tongue was pressed to the bar as he slurred incoherent words against it, pleading for more, _more,_ everything John offered, _anything_ John offered.

“I think we made a lot of progress today, Dirk, but it’d be a shame to blow my load on our first time together. That’s really not my thing, I prefer to have a good time over and over again!” John sighed, pulling the hook free of Dirk’s cuffs and spinning it lazily by the chain. “Still, stuff has to come to an end one way or another. I think we should finish you up for now.”

John dropped the knife to one side and gently found the buckle holding Dirk’s gag in place, slipping it free and running his thumb over Dirk’s dark lips once they were bare. Dirk tried to say something, a thankful urge in his chest, but all he managed was stammered nonsense the John shushed. Their foreheads met, and John admired the mess Dirk’s face had been left in, sighing warmly and smearing blood over Dirk’s freckles with each adoring pass of his thumb.

“I’ll see you on the other side,” he cooed, planting a soft kiss to the corner of Dirk’s lips before he stood and dragged Dirk up with him, the breeze tightening like a noose and forcing his shuddering body into the air. John span the hook and then he was moving, fast and fluid and like the wind that wrapped around Dirk’s body to guide the metal point true.

Dirk felt the curve burn through his neck, metal tearing his flesh and stealing his breath. It wasn’t even painful now. All he knew was cold, rushing in both directions as John caught the chain and jerked it, ripping it back out before it had even finished its first strike. Red splashed across John’s broad smile in ugly bursts, his eyes burning with something unspeakable as the breeze gathered in the deep gouge the hook had left behind.

For a moment, Dirk felt the air expanding, forcing the tear to completion, parting his spine like beads on a thread; then there was nothing, and he fell into the embrace of it, thoughts winking out one by one as his mind shut down altogether.

-o-

When he woke, all was silence, an endless absence between his ears that he drifted on as long as the gentle waves carried him. The satisfaction was lingering and hot as it swept slowly down his body, a tingle in his fingers and toes not unlike a different kind of completion that sat sweetly with the sense of _calm,_ of a lack of overthinking so entire that there were barely any thoughts left inside Dirk’s mind at all.

He sighed, and there was no tension left in him, no stress to sour the delight.

It didn’t burst like he was used to, fading instead as thoughts gradually slipped back to him like candles guttering back to life after the wind had almost blown them out. The warmth remained, diffusing through him and letting him enjoy the moment far longer than he was normally allowed.

In the end, he chose to open his eyes, and he was more surprised than he should’ve been to find John sitting beside him.

“Welcome back.”

Dirk sat up and found himself under a thick blanket on a military-looking cot tucked in the corner of the bunker, the metal frame creaking as John adjusted his own weight and looked Dirk over cautiously.

“...How are you feeling?” He asked, reaching slowly and touching Dirk’s throat.

Dirk leant his head to the side, focusing on the feeling of John’s fingers skimming the line that his body had separated along. “Did it scar?”

“No.”

Dirk wasn’t sure why that disappointed him. He shrugged, taking a slow breath. “I’m fine. A little drowsy, whatever, that blissed-out _just got fucked up_ feeling, but that’s not a complaint.” He coughed, glancing away awkwardly. “That was a warm-up, huh? You go harder than I thought you did, John.”

“You kept up.” John swung his legs, dropping his hand and giving a smile that was far too warm for everything that had happened between them. “Was it what you wanted?”

Dirk gazed down at nothing, and it took a moment to force his thoughts into motion, something that was as surreal as it was a relief. He knew it wouldn’t last, that the gears would fall back into place and pick up speed, that everything would become too much and too loud all over again- but it was something. A moment of calm in an endless storm, the clouds split by a hurricane that they couldn’t adjust fast enough to resist.

“Could you…” He wet his lips and tasted the last traces of blood on his skin. “Could you do some of that shit you were talking about, next time?”

“ _Next time_ ,” John repeated, and his laughter was soft like a breeze.

-o-

**Author's Note:**

> While no one here is blatantly asexual, I definitely aimed John to be a-spec, as per request. I hope the subtlety of that and his trans identity are okay! It was fun to write with those details in mind. :)


End file.
